


like i need another hole in the heart

by fuscience



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Bones 3x15, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 20:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1360492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuscience/pseuds/fuscience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last time Felicity's photo was taken she was standing in front of a black wall, shiny, new Queen Consolidated employee badge printing out behind the front desk. The last time her photo was taken Felicity was happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like i need another hole in the heart

**Author's Note:**

> Ehhhhhh. I have no idea what I'm doing. I know this isn't a completely realistic situation the group would ever put themselves in, but I was inspired by a rewatch of Bones season three finale and quisinart4 messaging "Felicity's first encounter with the paparazzi" thus, this mess.

_the pain in the heart_

Inspiration:

 

The last time Felicity's photo was taken she was standing in front of a black wall, shiny, new Queen Consolidated employee badge printing out behind the front desk.

 

Her glasses sat on the edge of her nose, lilac shirt ironed and pressed, tucked into new black slacks, and bottle blonde hair pulled back into a French braid neatly twisted to the back of her head and pinned.

 

The last time her photo was taken Felicity was happy.

 

* * *

 

 

She can hear the click of the cameras, pressing in, suffocating them all like the oppressive depression settling over the green field isn't enough. It's funny how one of the prettiest areas of Starling is the cemetery as if the city wants to apologize to all it's inhabitants, sorry your life was ugly and shitty and short in this horribly unfair world, but at least your grave is nice.

 

Sara stands waiting to wrap her in a  hug, trying to piece together the parts of themselves that were connected to him, the parts he's taken to the grave. She's done this before, doesn't make it easy, but it makes it bearable. Felicity is cracking at the seams. She feels that if someone only dared to try and pry her open they would find tiny punctures all over, the holes he's left in her life. Everything is raw and tender inside and, for a moment, Felicity regrets ever doing any of this - than regrets that thought and wants to cry all over again because she would never take back a single second spent with Oliver.

 

At the front stands Thea and Moira, each holding  the other up, looking like they are on the verge of collapse. The last of the Queens, the standing matriarch and the heiress. Roy sits next to them, jaw clenched, and fists balled in his lap. He was forbidden from carrying the coffin due to his still unstable control - this also means he's forced to shrug off Thea's attempts to hold hands lest he break hers. Felicity watches him sink into himself more and more and wonders what will happen to him with Oliver gone, what will happen to them all.

 

Diggle, and five other hired bodyguards hold the casket aloft, beginning the procession forward.

 

Click.

 

Felicity hears the sound of another camera and can only imagine the twist of the long range zoom, the finger pressed down on the button.

 

She can only imagine taking all these cameras apart, piece by piece, in poetic justice as they dissect Oliver's last moments.

 

When Felicity thinks of her final night with Oliver there's no cloud of impending doom, no word of forewarning. There was nothing to prepare her for this and wonders if the universe enjoyed watching her fall asleep that night with a smile on her face.

 

_He leans over to press a kiss to her temple, stubble grazing the side of her forehead. It tickles and makes her laugh, a bubble of happiness bursting up from her heart. Oliver edges close and wraps his arms around her waist, nudging closer and nuzzling her neck, rubbing his scratchy stubble over her skin until Felicity cries out for mercy, wriggling out of his grip. The chair spins until their facing each other, Oliver smiling at her semi-agitated state, arms entrapping Felicity in._

_"I'm trying to work." She stands, covering his large hands with her own to pull them away from her waist._

_"So am I." He teases, edging her shirt up, "it takes a lot of effort to get you into bed. Sometimes I even have to buy you dinner._

_"Oh is that so." His fingers skirt  further under, dancing along her ribs and Felicity can't help the slight hitch to her breath. "Shouldn't you always buy me dinner first? Maybe I should up the ante._

_He laughs and his breath is stale and warm against her face._

_"Whatever you want." Oliver whispers, leaning into her neck. She loves that heels give her the height wrap her arms around his neck and draw him in for an actual kiss. Their noses bump before their lips meet and its soft and playful and nice._

_He reaches behind her and shuts the laptop closed._

 

_"Lets go home."_

 

 

Felicity gets the call the next morning, while she's sitting at her work desk, idly wondering why Oliver's late. Those glass walls are horrible because the whole floor watches her fall to the ground and sob and she can't control any of it. Felicity hides under her desk, quiet and shuddering cries wracking her body, until Diggle finds her.

 

"John?"

 

He reaches in and draws her to him, out from underneath the mahogany.

 

"I'm here." John whispers, slow as to not startle her. His voice is hoarse and strangled and she knows he's hurting too.

 

Felicity leans into Diggle's large shoulders - broader than Oliver's - as they flee out QC down the private elevator. She hasn't been back since. It's not that there's no point to her job without Oliver, but she can't go up there and watch someone else sit in his office, can't ride the elevator up seventeen floors and not think of him. Felicity thinks she might get her IT job back, if she doesn't move companies altogether.

 

He was shot. Not as the Arrow, but as Oliver Queen. 

 

One bullet through the head so, they cant even see the body because you can't have a viewing for a corpse that has a giant hole in its face . Everything just jumped straight to the funeral instead. 

 

Diggle is carrying the casket, but Sara stands to the back and her arms are open and strong, wrapping around Felicity's shoulders.

 

Sara could go forward. Coming back from the dead and being childhood friends gives the Lance family special permission to join the small crowd of people upfront who are considered Queen family confidantes. Laurel and Quentin sit close, heads bowed, probably a little unsure about what to do with the position of honor.  Being the CEO's executive assistant and speculative girl he's fucking on the side does not get you a front seat to Oliver Queens funeral.

 

That's okay. She can barely handle her own grief and Thea's already shot her several pleading glances, eyes begging for some answer that Felicity really doesn't have. They'd gotten drunk together the first night without him, Thea dialing her, words slurred and crying for her big brother. Felicity'd been allowed entry to the Queen's mansion at the behest of its heiress and as soon as she had walked through the doors Thea had ran into her arms. Side by side in his bedroom they'd passed a bottle of whiskey back and forth, heads leaning on each other, unable to say anything of comfort.

 

The pallbearers continue to carry Oliver forward before placing the statuesque black coffin onto the catafalque.

 _Not Oliver_ she thinks, Oliver's dead and the thing inside that coffin isn't the body that held her close at night, doesn't have the lips that would kiss her neck or the warm fingertips that would trail down her spine. The thing is cold and lifeless with a bullet shaped hole.

 

Felicity feels like she should be crying, but there's no tears left just an empty hollowness like everything inside has been completely drained. Sara's hand anchors her.

 

A commotion from the front makes her head jerk up.

 

The casket tumbles to the ground as all six of the men including John pull out weapons, and what is most certainly not a dead body and is in fact a mannequin dressed to the nines in a pressed black suit violently rolls out, breaking apart on the ground.

 

Felicity watches with bright eyes as Detective Lance joins the fight and all the men turn on a lone bystander off to the side. Several plains clothes officers appear out of the crowd and before she knows it they have someone pinned to the ground. There's a flurry of movement and panicked bodies as Felicity tries to see what's going on, moving forward against the flow of panicked funeral-goers. Sara sticks close to her, muscles tense. There's a broad set of shoulders blocking her view of Diggle and Felicity watches the stranger's arm swing up, fingers rubbing together in a movement that is hauntingly familiar.

 

She darts forward yelling his name.

 

When Felicity gets close, Oliver's tugging off the hat that hid his face and there's a half moon smile tugging on his lips like he's happy to see her. Lance is dragging some man away in handcuffs and John stands off to the side, brushing dry grass and fresh dirt from his pants. Felicity pushes past the front row,  and bends down to grab the broken arm off of mannequin-Oliver. She examines the plastic part in disbelief, before looking up to examine real-and-alive-Oliver in his nondescript black suit.

 

"Felicity." He says her name like a man dying in the desert, but she can only feel a thunderous storm of fury. Oliver's smile falls when he sees Felicity's face transform from one of incredulity to unmitigated rage. Raising the mannequin's arm into a batters position, Felicity stomps forward, whipping it into a vicious upswing and watching the hard edge of the hand slap Oliver sound in the face with a satisfying smack. She continues to vibrate with anger as Oliver lays on his back looking up at her in shock. He sputters and Felicity pants from the effort of hitting him. Fists clenched tightly at her side, stance wide and nostrils flaring there's a certain savagery to Felicity at the moment. If his head wasn't ringing with pain, Oliver would be incredibly turned on. As it is, Felicity releases an animalistic scream as she turns and storms off the cemetery grounds, leaving a trail of obscenities and a stunned billionaire behind her.

  
  


The paparazzi back up as the enraged woman walks away in a tempestuous whirlwind. Not one photo is taken of her leaving, but most major news post let picture of Oliver Queen's EA hitting him with  a mannequin arm take center stage in the entertainment sections.

* * *

 

Afterword

 

Oliver climbs into the black town car about an hour later and tries to gather her in an embrace, but Felicity childishly shuffles out of reach. He sighs and moves closer, cornering her against the door . She contemplates clicking the handle open and rolling out onto the grass away from Oliver, but that would mean letting him out of her sight and now that he's here in front of her she's loathe to do that - after this week she may never be ready to let him go again, present wrath at him non withstanding.

 

He forces his arms around her and she struggles, his touch feels fake and currently annoys the hell out of her.

 

"I'm sorry." His fingers lock together behind her back and he's pressed so tight against her that she's suffocating from the heat. "I could tell you it was a police investigation and I wasn't supposed to let anyone know, I could tell you that I didn't want you involved in this one because I was scared you would get hurt, but I'm really just sorry. You're my partner Felicity and I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

 

She thinks for a second, but can already feel the tension dissipating from her muscles - it was never really a choice.

 

"If you ever - If I don't - You." Felicity stutters and bites her lip, tucking her head into his chest."I'm not talking to you right now."

 

"Okay."

 

"I'm super mad." Her voice is muffled by his black suit.

 

"Yes. The bruise on my face speaks to that."

 

"I won't apologize for that."

 

She can hear him sigh and imagines the soft smile that must be playing across his lips. Her fingertips come up to rest on the nape of his neck, trailing the tiny little hairs that lay there.

 

"I deserved it." He agrees, laughing lightly because Oliver will enjoy telling this story for a long time to come.

 

Oliver holds Felicity close, as they walk up the stairs to her apartment. Her fingers stay wrapped around his suit jacket until they're inside and he shrugs it off, throwing the coat over the back of her small couch. He senses Felicity moving behind him and feels her arms wrap around his waist, clasping tightly. Her hands tremble and he turns around only to watch as she crumbles under his gaze.

 

"I thought I lost you." Felicity is trying to stifle the sob that escapes. It’s a strangled noise and Oliver's heart breaks. He never imagined this much pain, never thought his death would traumatize anyone this much.

 

She doesn't say anything else, but Oliver watches the tears fall on her cheeks as she furiously begins to undo the buttons on his white dress shirt, ripping off the final one. Her nails scrape against his stubbled cheeks when she drags him down for a kiss, mouth pressed hot and hard against his. Teeth clack against each other and Felicity is nipping at the soft skin of his lips, pushing her tongue inside. The clatter of a belt sounds, manicured fingers attempting to undo it, but her hands are shaking too hard to complete the task.

 

Oliver reaches up and cups Felicity's face with both hands, thumbs wiping away the tears and slowing down her frantic movements.

 

"Hey," His lips are swollen and he makes tiny shushing noises, trying to calm her down. "Felicity." She curls in on herself, head bowed in silence, hands still tucked into Oliver's pants and thinks about how much she loves the way he says her name. There's a slow emphasis on each syllable when Oliver says it, like each part is significant and perfect. Then she imagines never hearing him say it again and it's like swallowing fire, bubbling liquid lava slipping down her throat and settling in cool lumps against her heart and lungs so she cant breathe anymore. A small stuttering inhale of breath tells Oliver she's imagining bad things.  He knows they'll have to talk in the morning, but right now Oliver recognizes they just need each other. He lift her into his arms, eliciting a surprised squeak, and then proceeds to carry Felicity into the bedroom, before setting her on the bed.The energy visibly drains out of her, as she sits on the edge, wine colored sheets wrinkling towards her. A light breeze could blow her over at the moment.

 

Oliver kneels down between her legs, lifting each one and removing her funeral day black pumps, throwing them towards the closet door.

 

"I'm still angry." She whispers as he kisses his way up one calf, lifting her right leg over his bare shoulders.

 

"Furious." Felicity chokes out at the feel of his stubble on her inner thigh. His smile leaves an imprint on her skin and his lips are fire, the good kind now, erecting blistering pathways.

 

She drags her fingers through his hair and Oliver shudders at the ministration, moaning into the space beneath her dress. That sound pulls the first real smile out of her since he died.

 

Felicity screams his name that night. Over and over, like it might be the last time, and by the end he's swearing and promising he'll never leave her voluntarily again, he'll never leave her wondering where he went, why he's gone and Felicity is kissing him, holding him like it'll be enough to make sure he never disappears again.

 

If she keeps a closer eye on Oliver for the next week or two no one says anything. If she wears his shirts at night he stays silent. And if she rests her head over the center of his chest so that the drumming of his heart can lull her to sleep than Oliver merely runs his fingers through her hair, and holds her close the entire night.

**Author's Note:**

> There's not too much detail on the specific case because, well, I couldn't really think of anything. :|


End file.
